"Remember me
remember me
but, ah, forget my fate..."
(H. Purcell, When I am laid in earth)
Maybe the snow could wait, in the end. Theon smiled in his very own way while Robb was looking for his gloves. The others were already gone, but Robb couldn't find his damned gloves, and he surely could not do without them. The plushy leather gloves his father gave him for his tenth nameday. Robb loved to put his hands in them, he would never go out without them, may the others go all away. Theon instead waited for him, patiently, with no comments, while Robb turned his room upside down and now or then mumbled some apology for his carelessness.
"Come on, make haste!" Jon screamed from below. To underline the concept, a snowball smashed on the outside wall, an inch away from the window. Arya laughed out loud. Theon poked his head out. "My lord, you'd better start going, we'll catch up soon" he said. "Alright, we'll meet on the hills then" lord Eddard replied, and headed out of the yard, followed by his children.
They just couldn't seem to get found, those damned gloves.
They ran outside to catch up with the others. Theon grabbed Robb's arm and dragged him in another direction.
"Won't we go with them?" the child asked.
"I don't want to go with them" Theon replied, raising his nose to the sky proudly. "And they don't want me to go with them".
Robb looked at him, gravely.
They did not go with the others. They got on the top of the highest hill, where the white coat was still untouched. In silence they admired the enchant of the snow crystals sparkling under the sun like living creatures. From somewhere near came the voices and the laughters of the other children.
"This is my kingdom and I am the king!" Robb shouted, widening his arms. Theon smiled in that way of his.
Running, Robb stumbled and fell, tumbling down and sinking in the fresh snow. Theon, laughing hard, drew him out by an arm, and gently wiped his cloak, covered with tiny silvery flakes. Robb's face was red, but for the cold of course.
They built a snowman where the white valley was deeper. "We could name him.." Robb was saying, when Eddard called them from afar. They joined the group, running and trudging in the snow.
The snowman never had a name.
Centuries later, Theon was leaning on the stone ledge of the window of the same room where he waited for Robb that day. It was a singular fact that that part of the castle was still there. Theon could've wondered if it meant anything, but he didn't mind to. Not anymore.
The air was gray like his hair and the sky was blazing with icy snowflakes that scratched his scrawny face. Theon looked outside, careless of the ferocious wind that made his eyes weep.
The unnaturally high snow had almost flattened valleys and hills into one shiny rug, and it kept on falling down day and night. The edge of the wolf's wood was the only noticeable colored thing in the distance. The trail on which lord Eddard, his guards, his elder sons and Theon walked together coming back from a hunt was buried and lost, and so was the valley where the nameless snowman was built. But I could still find them with my eyes shut.
The outline of the towers still standing was blunted by the white blanket. The castle - the ruins that were left of it, was literally submerged by the snow. The horrid scars left by the fire were hidden under all that white. It almost looked like the castle it once was. A merciful act by the gods.
With all this snow, Theon thought, we could play all day long. We could make snowmen, monsters and dragons, and give them funny names. We could roll down the hill, pretending to still be children.
He collected a handful of snowflakes from the windowsill. "This is my kingdom and I'm the king!"
He felt them melting to the obstinate warmness of his hand. Robb would never see that snow.
It's better of this way.
Maybe somewhere north, very far in the north, another young man was looking at the same snow, thinking of the very same past.
It kept on snowing, incessantly. Soon, it would bury them all.
Come, winter.
...
...
...
The end.
That's it. Theon wants winter to come and put an end to his wrecked life and to that wrecked world. This is the last fic of this collection, and I think it's pretty much conclusive.
The thing is inspired to Tori Amos's Winter, a magical song. "Come, winter" is also the title to a song by Goran Bregovich (Aven ivenda, in the original language). I have no idea what the song is about because I could not find any translation, but the atmosphere is absolutely it. Listen to that, it will break your heart!
I hope you enjoyed reading these little things as much as I enjoyed writing them. Since I happen to care a lot about this work, a review would be very much appreciated, even a tiny tiny one. Thank you all :)